Chapter Seventeen.
New Experiences.
The village doctor came to doctor Jack Melland’s damaged ankle, and the patient fumed and fretted beneath his old-fashioned treatment.
“Bandaging me and laying me up by the heels for weeks at a time; it’s folly!” he declared angrily. “The man is twenty years behind the times. If I were in town I should have had one of those Swedish fellows to massage it, and be about in half the time. Just my luck to go in for an accident in a place where one can’t get proper attention!”
“But you groan if anyone comes near your foot; wouldn’t it hurt dreadfully much to have it massaged?” Mollie asked.
Whereupon the invalid growled impatiently—
“Hurt? Of course it would hurt! What has that to do with it, pray?”
“Lots,” returned Mollie, unabashed. “I should think so, at least, if it were my ankle. I can’t endure pain.”
“I’m not a girl,” growled Jack the ungracious, between his teeth.